


Break Me

by darkforetold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:16:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>Dean didn’t know that dealing with his feelings for Cas could leave him in so many pieces.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"When Dean looked up, he caught the flash of Cas’ eyes—a fiery glimmer that said nothing and everything all at once. Dean didn’t have any time to react before Cas rushed him, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him in. Cas’ lips met his own, deep and passionate, with a hunger behind them that no angel should know."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break Me

Dean spilled out into the alleyway on unsure feet, riding high on the alcohol running through his system. Everything around him was blurry, roughly blocked out shapes and colors that swam in front of his eyes. Shit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this drunk. God knows he had had plenty of opportunities in his life. The first time Sam had died, the year before he took his little vacation to Hell. Fuck, even when he and Sam had learned that they had let Lucifer out of his cage. But being thrown into some jacked up future by a dick angel? That had taken the fucking cake. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. No matter how hard he had tried, no matter how much he had drank, Dean couldn’t get those visions out of his head. He couldn’t forget the cold smile on Sam’s face. The lack of.. connection, soul, _anything_ , in his brother’s eyes. Dean had learned from his future self that Sam had said yes to Lucifer, that the whole goddamn world had ended.

God, he was going to be sick..

Dean braced himself against the wall as a wave of nausea slammed into him. The sudden upsweep of cold, crisp air did nothing to clear his head. Sam’s face kept coming back to him, that laugh, the heartlessness in his eyes. And it didn’t get any better when he thought of Cas. Remembering how strung out the angel had been made Dean let loose and hurl cheap bar food onto the pavement. He felt even more shitty and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Dean couldn’t forget how broken the future version of Cas had looked. Fucked up on booze, pills and women.

_Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out?_

Dean’s mouth watered and saliva pooled at the back of his throat, making him gag. Hunched over, he emptied his stomach again, getting rid of.. whatever the fuck he had drank tonight. He suddenly felt light-headed and his ears started ringing. Right then, Dean remembered that laugh, Cas’ laugh—how empty it had been, how the sound of it matched the dying light in his eyes. Dean had learned that Cas had stayed with him even after the other dick angels had left. Because of Dean, Cas had become a shell of what he once was. The guilt nipped at the distorted edges of his subconscious like an old, rabid dog and Dean tried his best to ignore it. The things Zachariah had shown him—that didn’t have to be their future. They could change all that. Dean just had to say yes to Michael or.. find some other way.

Dean willed his shaky legs to move again, stumbling a few steps before he got his bearings and began walking toward the mouth of the alley. Sure, he could change the path of their future. He’d call Sam the first chance he got and drag his ass back here if he had to. They’d face the apocalypse head on together, just like everything else. With Bobby and Cas at their side, they’d find some way to stop the world from ending. That was the easy part. This other shit that he was dealing with..? Fuck. That was entirely something different.

Dean stumbled again. He didn’t make it much farther before he heard something behind him. A metal can kicked, skittering across the pavement. Low, murmured voices. Behind him, someone yelled out and the sound of the voice was aggressive. He didn’t hear the exact words and when he turned, he could only make out the blocky shapes of two men. They were large and hunched over, carrying themselves like they owned the goddamn world. The weird twist of light and shadow made them look like monsters—something real fucking ugly that he and Sam would hunt on any given day. As fucked up as he was, Dean could tell that these two were looking for trouble. He couldn’t have been more right. There was another bark from the taller man and it sounded like a demand; something he couldn’t quite understand.

Dean stared at them long and hard, trying to process what was going on. Slowly, after sorting through the distorted bits and pieces of sound and sight, it clicked. They were planning on mugging him. Dean laughed. It was long and sounded more maniacal than he had intended. Like he had lost his fucking mind. And maybe he had. Maybe this was it—the time that he finally cracked. What the fuck did it matter anyway.

Without a second thought, Dean called out, “Fuck you,” before turning his back on them. The rush of movement behind him should have been his first warning, but he was too slow to react. The initial blow found his lower back, knocking the wind out of him and crumpling him to the ground. What happened next was a blur. There was a flurry of kicks, a whole lot of pain, and then the touch of hands along his chest and hips. Like they were searching for his shit. His body ached with the agony of the beat down.

Somehow, he found enough balls to say.. “Don’t.. take my.. fucking keys, man.”

This time, the asshole was close enough for Dean to hear him through his drunken haze.

“What’d you say, punk?”

Dean didn’t have time to answer. Another kick to the chest shut him up. His world exploded into more pain, blinding him, making him gasp for air. Air that wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried to gulp it in. Another kick. Another. Dean sucked in a hard breath and expelled it in one syllable—one that usually saved his life.

“Cas..”

He couldn’t tell if the sound of angel’s wings had been a dream or reality. After another kick to the chest, Dean’s world almost pitched into darkness. The sounds around him were disjointed, vague, distorted. Screams. Something heavy hitting the dumpster. The deep cut of a man’s voice calling his name. Suddenly, he was moving, hoisted up by rough hands. A rush of air, the sound of angel wings and his world suddenly became clearer. Dean was no longer hugging the pavement in some back alley. Instead, he was in his motel room standing in front of a fiery-eyed angel. Still fucking drunk. No pain. He couldn’t register any more than that. Not two seconds later, Cas slammed him up against the wall and laid into him.

“Dean. How could you be so reckless—“

He tuned him out. Dean couldn’t concentrate. Not with how close Cas was, pressing into him. His hair wild and his bright blue eyes more animated than he had ever seen them. Yep. This was the ‘other shit’ he had to deal with. The one other thing that had driven him to drink; his feelings for Cas. Deep feelings that made Dean dream about the angel more often than he cared to admit. Feelings that he tried to kill, bury and never think about again. Dean-fucking-Winchester hung up on some.. dude—angel. Whatever.

Dean tried not to think about it and instead focused on Cas, on what he was trying to say. He got as far as those full lips, the startling blue of his eyes. Dean wondered right then what it would be like to kiss those lips, to see those eyes blown wide in bed. While Cas kept on, the only thing Dean could think about was what it would be liked to be fucked by an angel. Thrown down onto the mattress, spread open wide and fucked hard until he screamed.

Cas narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if he had _heard_ what Dean had been thinking. He should have stopped right then and there, but it was too late. He was already leaning forward, pressing his mouth to Cas’ before realizing what he was doing. And just like he had imagined, Cas’ lips were soft, warm and perfect. The sweetest fucking noise came out of Cas’ throat and Dean swallowed it down, opening his mouth to dart in his tongue. He could feel Cas tense up beneath him before giving in, trading tongue flicks tentatively. Cas was so unsure of himself and the angel’s innocence, the fact that Dean was taking it, sent a signal straight down to his dick. He could feel it stiffen, press against the zipper of his jeans. All of it felt like a fantasy under the effects of the alcohol. Not real. Like a hazy dream just out of reach. None of it fully registered until Cas gripped his arm tightly.. and the drunkenness simply disappeared. Suddenly, in all of its clarity, Dean was faced with his confused sexuality and the fact that he was lip-locked with a guy. Fuck.

Dean broke contact and stumbled back a step. “Shit. I—uh..”

Cas was staring at him. Dean wanted to explain, say anything, but his shock and humiliation kept him quiet. He dropped his eyes and rubbed the nape of his neck. Goddamnit. What the hell had he been thinking? When Dean looked up, he caught the flash of Cas’ eyes—a fiery glimmer that said nothing and everything all at once. Dean didn’t have any time to react before Cas rushed him, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him in. Cas’ lips met his own, deep and passionate, with a hunger behind them that no angel should know. Shit. It was all too real now. This shouldn’t be happening.

Dean tried to push him away, but Cas held on like the stubborn son of a bitch he was. It was with a fierceness that thrilled and frightened Dean at the same time. The angel felt so warm against him and Dean was fully tempted to let sleeping dogs lie and give in, embrace whatever the fuck this was and enjoy it. Cas made the temptation harder to resist when he opened his mouth to let Dean in, enticing him with wet rush of his tongue. Dean couldn’t help but map the inside of Cas’ mouth, savoring the taste of him. Something in the back of his brain kept telling him that _this_ wasn’t him, that Winchesters don’t fuck men. But this felt too fucking good. Dean ignored the panic in his gut for a few more seconds of that kiss. With a growl in the back of his throat, Dean turned and forced Cas back into the wall. He cupped Cas’ face with his hands and pressed their mouths together hard. Cas responded in kind, kissing him so forcefully that it made Dean weak in the knees. The smarter part of him continued to second guess this, convince him that this was wrong in every sense of the word. Dean didn’t have another second to think about it.

Suddenly, they were moving again, backing up to the foot of the bed under Cas’ direction. Dean didn’t have the heart to end this, kissing him back hard with everything he had. It was Cas who pulled them apart, pushing Dean back onto the bed with enough force to disorient him. The stiff air prickled his skin and Dean suddenly realized that he was naked. And so was Cas. Fucking angels and their goddamn tricks. Dean should have been offended, felt slightly objectified if he hadn’t been so.. distracted. The long lines of Cas’ body kept him occupied. The lean muscle rippling down the length of him, the angular jut of his hipbones—God, he was beautiful. His concentration was broken again when the angel started moving. Cas didn’t waste a second in crawling onto the bed with him, draping skin and bone over Dean’s body. The rush of warmth felt like a contradiction; a welcomed intrusion, a needed offense. Dean felt light-headed. He wanted this, but it was too much, too fast.

Cas kissed him and pressed his hips against Dean’s, making the friction between their bodies more intense. Dean’s body reacted instinctively, pelvis rolling to grind into it. Oh, God, how he wanted this—and that scared the living shit out of him. The fear made Dean react. Because he felt like he needed to, Dean started to struggle. He tried to push him away, but the angel didn’t budge. Instead, Cas kept kissing. Forcefully. Eagerly. With all his strength, Dean tried again, pushing Cas away at the shoulders. The angel barely moved an inch and whined when their lips separated. His blue eyes were blown wide and he looked so.. fucking gorgeous like this; all drugged up on sex. Cas grabbed and pushed Dean’s wrists over his head, bridging the gap between them with a hungry nip at his lips. Dean tried to move his head away, but it wasn’t enough. The angel was too fast, too strong. Cas kissed him again with such _need_ that it made Dean groan. For a second, he gave into that kiss, crushing their mouths together before biting Cas’ lower lip. Hard. It made Cas snap his head back with a sharp hiss of pain. The angel licked at the abused flesh and stared at him. Right then, Dean knew he had made a huge fucking mistake. The look that Cas gave him.. it was a cross between a starved animal ready to pounce and an angel that wanted to fuck. It sent a stab of excitement through Dean’s gut. Excitement mixed with fear.

“Cas..”

With a growl deep in his throat, Cas came in again and kissed him, tongue licking the inside of Dean’s mouth. Dean whimpered in surrender and let Cas in, nearly dizzy from the rush of it all. He couldn’t deny how amazing it felt to be this close to him, to feel their bodies connect, hot skin against skin. The flight of fingers down his stomach was the only warning Dean had before he felt the head of Cas’ cock at his ass. And that was when the real struggle began. Dean tried to inch up the bed, tried to move away, but Cas wouldn’t have it. The angel held on with the strength of a monster. Dean panicked.

“Cas.. no.” _Not like this._

The angel wouldn’t listen. Cas wasn’t stopping. Dean tried to push him away again, twist out from beneath him, _anything_ , but Cas was unmovable. Dean felt Cas press into him, tease at his hole. Half of him wanted to give into it and the other half—

“Stop.” _We’re going too fast._

His world exploded into a blur of pain when Cas shoved himself inside. The stretch was excruciating, spreading him wide while his muscles clamped down in an attempt to reject the intruder. Dean voiced his displeasure with a shout of pain and the arch of his back, but Cas didn’t stop. He rocked into him greedily and Dean.. just gave up fighting. Why shouldn’t this _too_ turn ugly? Just like everything else in his life had. Dean didn’t deserve a happily ever after for all of his fucking failures. This pain was his punishment for everything he had done—for letting Sam down, Dad.. Mom. For torturing those souls in Hell. For that, he’d wear this pain as a badge.

Cas jerked into him harder, oblivious to small, pained noises Dean made. Like he was fucking _lost_ in this. Lost in the new sensations, the heat of their bodies. Everything. Dean could only feel the pain of it—every fucking time Cas pivoted his hips. Dean sent blunt nails down the length of his back just to bring Cas back to this reality. With a hiss, Cas arched his back and stopped fucking him long enough to peel his hands away. They were sent up and over Dean’s head again, pinned against the mattress, while Cas kissed his lips hard. That was all Dean needed; for Cas to stop just long enough to adjust, to let the pain die down. Just long enough to find a reason to enjoy this.

When Cas started rolling his hips again, it was softer, slower. Not as desperate. Like Cas knew he was hurting him. It felt like an apology. The way he was gentle, the light flutter of lips over his neck. It took Dean by surprise. He realized that he didn’t want gentle, that he wanted the pain. He didn’t deserve anything but the agony. Cas would be his instrument of punishment. A tool that would break him into a million pieces with no hope of putting him together again. _That_ was what he deserved. Not some fairy-tale fucking. No chick-flick moments. Just pain.

_Break me.._

With a groan, Dean wrapped his legs around Cas’ hips, using them to urge him on. Dean wanted Cas to jerk into him, fuck him until his eyes rolled back in his head. The struggle and pain had thrilled him. Dean wanted to be abused, told what to do— _taken_. Cas listened to his cues and slammed into him, making the headboard bounce against the wall. Dean spread his thighs further and accepted everything the angel had to give. He was a fucking whore like this, moaning and begging for more. Pain mixed with pleasure surged up and down his body as the angel thrust into him harder, faster. Dean whimpered when Cas pulled at his hair, angling his head to expose his throat. The sharp pinch of teeth shot another flash of pain through him, making him cry out. Fuck. Another thrilling surge of bliss.

Dean pulled at Cas hair and, in return, the angel yanked at his harder. The angle was almost painful, but Dean couldn’t care about that. Not when Cas fucked into him with the rapid jolt of his hips. Dean’s eyes rolled back into his head and he cried out with a moan. Every thrust sparked at Dean’s mounting orgasm, adding fuel to its fire until it threatened to ignite. With the sweat, their bodies slid together effortlessly and Dean snapped his hips up just to feel Cas’ stomach grind against his dick. He grabbed at anything to make him come and groaned with need. Dean scrapped his nails down Cas’ back and earned himself several hard thrusts, each one more rough than the last. Cas was fucking him right into the goddamn mattress, making Dean’s toes curl and his thighs quake.

“Dean..”

Cas was breathless and the sound of his name, fast and loose on his lips, was so fucking beautiful. And it was just enough to send him over the edge. Dean inhaled deeply as the crest of his orgasm peeked and punched into him, burning every nerve as the hot flare of it spread throughout his body. His gut-deep groan broke free from his throat and left him panting, sweating and trembling all over. He could feel his heart in his throat, pounding out a hurried tempo against his skin. He chased the beat until it quieted down, until everything that he felt melted away—the pain, the bliss… the warmth of Cas against him. Suddenly, the angel was no longer there. When Dean looked, Cas was fully clothed and on the other side of the room. The angel stared at him and said nothing. The tension could have been cut with a knife.

The sound of wings left Dean alone in the motel room. And that was when the loneliness, guilt and shame swallowed him whole. His only comfort was the anger that burned in his gut.  



End file.
